


The Message Coming From My Eyes

by wasted_truth



Series: The Rickest Morty [10]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_truth/pseuds/wasted_truth
Summary: Shut up, Morty.(Spoilers for Season 3. If you haven't read the previous stories...I can't believe this will make sense.)





	The Message Coming From My Eyes

Morty could not have been more bored; even the classic rock blaring out of the radio wasn’t helping. He was constructing the fifth plasma rifle that afternoon. He and Rick had a large order, and the tedium of building the same rifle over and over was wearing on him. To make things worse, he was alone, so Rick wasn’t there to talk to and keep him awake.

He picked up a tiny Philips screwdriver to fix the trigger in place. He managed not to lose the screw thanks to his small hands. Trigger in place, he started putting the outer casing on.

“I see a red door and I want to paint it black,” he mumbled along with the music. _Where are you, Rick?_

Rick had left that morning on a delivery. It was an anti-matter gun, an unusual order even for them, and he made Morty stay behind to crank out the rifle order. Normally, Morty wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he thought he remembered Rick saying that the antimatter gun was due on the sixteenth when they got the order. Today was the eighteenth. There’s no way Rick would have delivered a gun two days late, especially when they finished it a week ago.

_Maybe I just heard him wrong._ The casing snapped into place with a satisfying click. Morty slid off his stool to add the rifle to the pile of ones he had built so far. Instead of starting rifle number six, Morty slid back onto his stool and put his head down, his brown hair tumbling over his folded arms. Hitching a sigh, he thought, _A short nap, that should make me feel better…maybe Rick will be back by then._

 

Closing his eyes, he stared into the darkness. He almost gave up after several long minutes, but then sleep abruptly hit him.

_Time for a drink…_

Morty whirled around in his dream. Everything was dark and blurry, with only a few snatches of light. He thought he could make out a faint sun in what he thought was a dim sky.

_A speech with sinister overtones…_

“Hello?” he called out. The voice was coming from everywhere at once. It surrounded him.

_Order…brotherhood…power…_

He squinted and thought he could make out a dome in the distance. And was that…Rick’s ship in front? It had to be – there was none like it.  

“Mortys have no chance of defeating a Rick,” fell from his lips, and he woke up with a jerk.

 

Morty rubbed his face as the garage door rattled open noisily. “What a fucking weird dream,” he mumbled as the ship landed clumsily behind him. Frowning, he whirled around. The ship thumped on the cement and shut off. “The hell?”

He waited for Rick, but the doors remained closed. Finally, just as he was sliding off his stool, the driver’s door opened and Morty watched two glass bottles roll out and crash on the garage floor.

“Whoops…f-*buuurp*-fuck.” Rick started to climb out. “Wh-Whoopsie-daisy.”

“Rick? Are you –”

“Made a mess, Morty. Gotta…gotta clean up that glass, Morty.” Rick was using the ship’s door to haul himself to his feet. Morty immediately noticed the unfamiliar stains on his lab coat and shirt.

“Rick, you’re _drunk_. In the middle of the day!”

“Pr-Pretty astute deduction, there, Morty. Good job, gold star for you.” Rick shoved himself away from the ship door and staggered toward Morty. Looking at the boy with angry red eyes, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What’s wrong with you?! You just went on a delivery – now you’re shit-faced?” He started to walk up to Rick, but the man held up his hand, halting Morty in his tracks.

_He’s been off for a few weeks, but this…this…_ It was true. Morty had noticed a slow change in Rick. He had become more withdrawn and silent, sometimes distant. This drunk, furious Rick was new. Morty didn’t know what was happening, and it was more than clear that Rick wasn’t about to tell him.

“Aw, fuck, here we go!” Rick threw his hands up and glared at Morty in a way the boy had never seen before. “Are you going to give me a l-*buuurp*-lesson, Morty? I didn’t realize you were my _wife_ , but if you want the fuckin’ job, by all means, go ahead!”

Morty’s mouth fell open and he struggled for words. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he managed finally. “Since when am I your…your _punching bag?_ You were fine when you left – did something happen?”  

Rick slammed the ship door, nearly falling over in the process. “Mind your own fucking business, Morty.” He was facing the ship, his hand on the door. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. “Finish those rifles. You’ll take the runs from now on. I’ll be working here.”

“But –”

“Shut up, Morty.”

Stunned, Morty could only watch as Rick stumbled out of the garage and into the house. He didn’t follow Rick. Instead, his heart thumped sickly in his chest, and when he brushed his hair off his face, his fingers came away damp.

***

Morty avoided Rick for the rest of the day and night. When he came inside to eat meals, he spotted Rick in the living room, curtains drawn, staring at the television with a blank expression. He also noticed the bottle of whiskey balanced on the man’s knee.

They didn’t speak.

It was after two in the morning when Morty finished the rifles. He had thrown himself into their construction, but it hadn’t stopped his brain from trying to figure out what was wrong with Rick, in vain. Finally, exhausted, he dragged himself from his stool and inside. Halfway up the stairs, he stopped.

_Will Rick be in our room? Should I sleep somewhere else?_

Morty climbed the rest of the way.

_Fuck it. If he’s mad at me, he can go sleep on his cot._

But when Morty walked into their bedroom, Rick was in bed, his back to the door. Assuming he was asleep, Morty stripped, crept quietly around the bed, and got in on his side. Once he was under the bedding, he stared up at the ceiling. He was so tired, but not sure he could sleep.

Rick’s hand slid across his stomach.

He couldn’t help but jump. Rick’s hand pressed into his back, rolling him onto his side. Morty started to say, “what are you doing,” but was silenced with a kiss.

_What_ –

Instinctively, he started to shove Rick away. The kiss was soft on his mouth and Rick’s hand was firm. He struggled, pushing against Rick’s chest with his hand, and then something broke in him. The hurt from Rick’s words came out in a flood of hot tears.

Rick kissed him harder, and Morty didn’t fight. It hurt, but he just wanted the closeness. He ran his hand up Rick’s chest and wrapped his arm around Rick’s neck.

_We can talk…later,_ he thought blurrily, pulling himself in.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for reading!
> 
> There is one more short story for this series, and then a long chaptered piece after that. That long piece is the meat of EM's story, so to speak.
> 
> [Follow me into the land of 18+ smut.](https://wasted-truth.tumblr.com/)


End file.
